Empty Rooms
by KimbleDramione
Summary: The unthinkable had happened. Something he had never seen coming was now his reality. His wife was gone. And he had no idea why. The grip on his tumbler loosened, and as his ears registered the sound of the glass shattering on the floor, Draco Malfoy sank into the recliner, dropped his head into his hands, and cried. Copyright belongs to J K Rowling, only the plot is mine.
1. Chapter 1

**Empty Rooms**

 **1**

He made his way up the driveway to his home, still rattled from his long working day at the Ministry. He had been working hard to try and convince the current Chief Warlock of some necessary changes to the structures and processes of the Wizengamot (in an attempt to bring them up to speed with the new rebranded Ministry of Magic) but had encountered harsh resistance to every suggestion. In short, his working day had been very long and unfulfilling. He detested days like this. He couldn't wait to get inside by the fire and sample some of Ogden's Finest.

As he pushed open the heavy mahogany door, a sudden feeling of unease hit him. This was unusual. Tisky, his personal house-elf, was standing in the hallway and anxiously twisting the tea-towel she wore as a dress; her large eyes full of worry and fear.

He set down his briefcase and hung his cloak over the large coat stand, cringing slightly as Tisky emitted a small sound that was halfway between a whimper and a sob. "What is it, Tisky?" he demanded, his words coming out more harshly than he had intended. Her eyes began to fill with tears and he instantly began backtracking, not wanting to upset her. She was an excellent elf and served him and his family efficiently and loyally. He held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Tisky. What's made you so upset?" he asked more kindly.

At his question, the little elf let go of the fabric slung around her small body and began to sob. "Master will be very angry with Tisky, but Tisky could do nothing!" she wailed. "Tisky tried everything but nothing was enough."

Suddenly, he noticed the chill in the air. There was no familiar scent as there had always been and it was quiet. Too quiet. Where was his wife? She was usually home by now yet he could feel no trace of her in their shared Manor. "Tisky, where is the Mistress?" he asked, feeling ice travelling through his veins at the turn his thoughts were taking. Tisky burst into loud sobs and buried her face in her towel, and immediately he took off running. He climbed the stairs two at a time and looked into their bedroom. The sight he saw made his blood run cold.

There were none of her possessions in the room, strewn around haphazardly as they usually were. No stack of books on her bedside table, no sign of the candles she insisted lighting on their dresser each evening. Striding into the room, he wrenched open the doors to her large walk-in wardrobe. Nothing. All her clothing was gone. The hangers glinted in the dim light, swinging listlessly. " _Lumos Maxima_ ," he whispered, taking a step inside the spacious room. The light from his wand lit up the entirety of the space and he could now see the empty shelves, stretching as far as he cared to look. He left the room and made his way to the en suite bathroom, flinging open the door. He saw his own soap and toiletries, but nothing of hers. The candles ringing the roll-top bath were gone. The shelf that was usually clustered with various bath potions was empty.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand, muttering under his breath about needing more sleep and that he was seeing things. Or _not_ seeing things, as the case may be. Descending the sweeping staircase, he stalked past the still sobbing Tisky and into the drawing room. Nothing of hers. Then the parlour. Nothing – none of her books, none of the little ornaments she loved so much either. He moved into the sunroom – the fresh flowers she usually arranged in crystal vases were absent, although the vases still remained; albeit unfilled. Finally, swallowing the lump that was quickly forming in his throat, he made his way to the private sitting room. Her chair remained, but the multi-coloured knitted throw that he had often scorned was gone. The television (that she had insisted on getting, despite his protests about Muggle technology) was gone.

A bright light prickled at his vision, and he looked down to see the tip of his wand still blazing with light. " _Nox,"_ he muttered harshly, shaking his wand as the light died. He looked around in confusion; his thoughts going a hundred miles a minute. She wasn't here. None of her possessions were here. Was this some kind of joke? He remembered something she had told him once about a day where practical jokes were encouraged and celebrated; but he was sure that was in April or something. It was now early November.

He shook his head as if to clear it, expecting to look around and see all her things back in their usual places when he reopened his eyes. But they weren't. The fire was unlit, and suddenly he shivered. What on earth was going on?

Remembering Tisky, he made his way slowly to the hallway once more. The little elf was now sitting on the bottom stair, holding her tea towel dress up to her rounded eyes and sobbing. He sat down next to her, feeling numb and yet wanting to comfort his favourite servant. "Tisky… what happened here?" he asked dully, hearing the thickness in his own voice as it reverberated around the large marble hall.

"Mistress came home early, Master… and immediately began to pack her things," the elf answered between sobs. "Tisky tried to stop her, to ask her why, but Mistress did not answer. Would not answer. Mistress was crying, but very angry! Mistress stomped about and gathered all her things and then brought them here, Master… Tisky tried once more to stop her but she said it wasn't Tisky's fault… and then she was gone." The elf looked up at him, her eyes shining with yet more tears. "Tisky failed, Master."

Despite her immense pressure in his chest, he managed to smile at her. "No, Tisky. You didn't fail… you tried your hardest. You did everything you could." He sighed deeply. "I need a drink."

"Would Master like me to make him some tea?" she asked excitedly, her ears pricking up.

He shook his head wearily. "No thank you, Tisky… but I'm quite hungry. I'd very much like some of your wonderful roast beef, if you could manage it."

Tisky jumped up and clapped her hands together. "Of course, Master! Tisky is honoured to serve." A sad expression came over her face. "Should Tisky make enough for Mistress, too?"

The simple question prompted an avalanche of emotion. He gripped the foot of the banister, steadying himself, as pain began to tear through his chest. Struggling for breath, he looked up at the house elf, determined to keep it together and not frighten the little creature. "No, Tisky," he answered; his voice lacklustre. "Just enough for me – and for yourself." She Apparated to the kitchens as he clutched his tie, loosening the knot he had so painstakingly tied this very morning.

She had been there then, sitting up in bed as she watched him; sipping her tea. He hadn't said a word to her as he had stood there, grumbling at the expensive silk; his long fingers tucking and re-tucking until the knot was perfectly sized and proportioned. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture the scene. How had she looked? He couldn't remember if she had said anything at all to him that morning. His wand alarm had gone off at its ridiculously early hour, as always. Had she been awake then? It bothered him that he couldn't remember.

He stood up then and walked to the parlour, ignoring the murmurs of the family portraits on the walls. "Bloody gossiping canvases," he muttered. Making his way to the drinks cabinet, he pulled off his tie in exasperation and tossed it onto a nearby chair. His trembling hands found the crystal decanter and a tumbler, and he poured himself a large glass of firewhiskey before closing his eyes and taking a large gulp. The potent liquid burned a trail down his throat, making him choke and cough. He slammed his hand down on the cabinet in frustration, causing the decanters to clatter together loudly, before picking up the tumbler again and walking over to the large window to look out. Dusk had fallen, and a slow mist was creeping in over the large hedges that surrounded the expansive gardens. He heard the evening calls of the crows as they circled around the large willow trees that surrounded the patio, and the soft trickling of the waterfall. Both sounds that would have comforted him once, but tonight he felt numb. The faint scent of dinner was wafting up from the kitchen, making his mouth water at the same time as his heart was sinking deeper and deeper in his chest.

Before he could register what he was doing, his feet carried him from room to room once more. _Just in case this is all some crazy hallucination_ , he told himself. He checked the drawing room, the guest bathroom, the sitting room, the dining room, each and every guest bedroom (and there were many), his study… all were devoid of any possession, presence or decoration that suggested a woman lived here. All her possessions had vanished into thin air, along with the woman to who he had given his name.

His eyes, bleary from the firewhiskey, suddenly focused on a large set of double doors. He had never looked at them in such detail before. They were wide and sturdy, fashioned from the finest oak, set with an intricate panelling design that had once been the hallmark of their family. But it was what lay beyond the doors that had suddenly made his heart skip a beat. The _library._ The family library.

His feet moved him towards those doors as if he were a man possessed; reaching the doors and flinging his arm out just in time to push them open. He stepped into the cavernous room, the scents of old leather and parchment filling his nose. She loved this room. Often he had returned home to find her here, curled up on the large recliner with a stack of books beside her and a large mug of hot chocolate which she had charmed to keep warm. But the recliner was empty. Nothing greeted him inside that room except shelves of ancient tomes, particles of dust floating in the light, and a sense of crushing doom as he finally, painfully, realised the truth he had been trying to deny for the past hour.

The unthinkable had happened. Something he had never seen coming was now his reality. His wife was gone. Hermione Granger-Malfoy; his wife of two years, had left him. And he had no idea why. The grip on his tumbler loosened, and as his ears registered the sound of the glass shattering on the floor, Draco Malfoy sank into the recliner, dropped his head into his hands, and cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Ginny Potter looked up in surprise as the Floo roared to life and her best friend of many years, Hermione Granger-Malfoy, stepped out of the fireplace. "Hermione, what are you doing here?" she asked, standing and greeting her with a hug.

Hermione's face was devoid of colour and her eyes were red-rimmed. "I've left him, Gin."

The words echoed around the room, and Ginny stared at her friend in shock. "What? You've left him?" She led Hermione to a nearby chair and watched as she sank into it, brushing her wild curls away from her face. "I thought everything was good between you."

Hermione shook her head frantically, tears beginning to slide down her reddened cheeks. "He's barely spoken to me for weeks," she choked. "He goes to work, comes home, eats dinner and then disappears into his study, or the parlour. I got so tired of staring at the walls, Gin. I can't be in a marriage where I'm the only one making any effort."

"Let me get you some tea," was the response. She walked into the kitchen and met the curious eyes of her husband. "Hermione is in the living room, Harry," she explained. "She – she's left Draco."

His green eyes widened. "She what?" His mouth dropped open; his tea mug freezing halfway to his mouth. Putting it down on the kitchen table, he got to his feet. "I'll go talk to her. The good biscuits are in the top cupboard – oh, and don't make tea. Make coffee with a dash of firewhiskey – I get the impression she's going to need it."

Ginny busied herself in the kitchen as Harry crept into the living room. Hermione looked a fright. Her curls, usually tamed and glossy, stuck in different directions as if she had been electrocuted or hit with a Static Charm. Her eyes were pinched and sore-looking, and her bottom lip was trembling. He immediately sat on the arm of her chair and without a word, gathered her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest; her sobs echoing through the room. Harry let her cry, feeling her shake in his arms and wondering what on earth had happened. "Mione… what happened?" he finally voiced gently.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with tears. "He doesn't love me, Harry," was her simple answer. "At least, I hope he doesn't, because if he does then his ways of showing love are awful."

"Has he hurt you? Did he hit you?" demanded Harry, instantly angry.

She shook her head hurriedly. "No, no – he hasn't touched me. That's the problem, Harry. It's like I don't exist. No conversation, no physical contact. It was as if I wasn't there half the time. I just – I can't live like that, Harry. He never made time to talk to me. The only conversation I ever got was from Tisky."

"How did this come about, Hermione?" asked Ginny, coming in from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. "Here – have some coffee. I found the biscuits you like, the Cadbury ones."

Hermione hiccupped and accepted a mug, taking a sip. "I was at work today, and I was thinking about things and then I suddenly realised I didn't want to go home. For the past few weeks, I've stayed late at work, cataloguing or making an excuse to do something else, and then it hit me that I was avoiding my own home. I hated going back to the Manor because I knew all that was waiting for me were empty rooms and silence." She took another large sip of her coffee. "I knew then I had to do something, and I blew. I immediately Apparated back and threw all my things into trunks. Poor Tisky, she tried so hard to find out what was wrong." She tilted her head, suddenly troubled by the memory. "I need to apologise to her, I was quite rude."

Ginny bit into a biscuit, her expression kind. "And he wouldn't talk to you about it? Draco, I mean?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Don't be ridiculous. Draco doesn't talk about anything. Not even his work day. I'm really beginning to wonder if he was actually 'working late' at all. He did hire an especially pretty secretary."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. "Did you leave him a note?" enquired Harry.

Hermione's face broke into an uncharacteristically cold smile. "No. Why should I? I doubt he's even noticed that I've gone. He never noticed when I moved the furniture around so why would he notice that I'm not there anymore? After all, I was just another of his possessions."

Ginny leaned around and took her friend's hand. "Mione, he's going to notice. He's going to come looking for you. You do know that?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and dunked a biscuit into her coffee. "He won't." The surety in her voice chilled the Potters, but neither of them felt comfortable enough to voice their dissent. A sudden whooshing broke the strained silence, and they all jumped as the Floo roared to life in a green flash.

Harry jumped up. "Hermione, go to our bedroom with Ginny," he said. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to see who I think that is right now." She nodded and the two women quickly disappeared up the staircase as he turned back to the fireplace just in time to see Draco stepping out.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The sneer on his visitor's face was something he had not seen since their Hogwarts days. "Don't piss about with me, Potter," came the biting reply. "I know my wife is here and I want to see her."

Harry shrugged. "I've just gotten home myself, mate. I haven't even seen my own wife yet. If Hermione is here, I've not seen her."

Draco stepped closer to him and Harry met his eyes defiantly. He could see the anger burning in the pale man's grey eyes. "Well she's not at the Manor, Potter, and all her things are gone. I figured she must have come here." Despite the obvious anger in the words, Harry could make out an emotion he hadn't been expecting – sadness. Harry felt his heart sink and he gestured to the sofa.

"Take a seat, Draco," he offered. "What's going on?"

Draco muttered something under his breath, but accepted the seat, looking around suspiciously. "Like I said, I got home and Hermione wasn't there – or any of her things. Nothing. No note, nothing but an inconsolable house elf," he stated, his voice husky with anger and pain. "She left, just like that."

"Why do you think she left?" questioned Harry, trying to keep any semblance of familiarity with the situation out of his voice. "I mean, did she say anything? Did you have a fight?"

Draco dropped his head into his hands. "No, we haven't had a fight for weeks. She didn't say anything – she never said anything. Ever."

"What do you mean? When was the last time you talked?" Harry's voice was laced with surprise, and Draco hated it.

"In all honesty, Potter, I can't remember," he admitted resignedly. "That's bad, isn't it?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I don't understand, Malfoy," he replied. "I mean, you were so in love. We all hated it at first but you both proved that you weren't going to let our misgivings stop you from being together. I just… I don't get it."

"I still love her," Draco responded. "I never stopped. But obviously she did – she's been working late a great deal lately. I half suspect that she's seeing someone else."

Harry would have chuckled if the situation had been different. Here were two people, suspecting the same things about each other and yet they hadn't talked in weeks. "What about you?" he asked instead. "Have you been seeing anyone else?"

"No!" was the vehement reply. "I'd never do that, not to Hermione!"

"What were you going to say to her, if she was here?" Harry surprised himself with the question. He knew now that he couldn't let Draco see Hermione, not like this. It would only lead to a shouting match.

"I don't know," admitted Draco. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. Demand an explanation, I guess. Drag her back to the Manor with me. Ask her how on earth I'm supposed to console my best house elf, who won't stop weeping."

"Tisky likes Hermione a lot, doesn't she?"

Draco nodded. "Loves her. Tisky once said that Hermione made the Manor feel like a home again. After the war, the place felt like a tomb. Hermione – well, she changed all that. It actually felt more like the place I remembered growing up."

"What should I say if she comes here?" Harry asked, feeling sorry for the man sitting across from him. Draco's initial anger had dissipated and now he just looked sad.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, Potter. I've no idea. Maybe just find out why she left, and ask her if she'll speak to me. I don't want this to be the end. Maybe – maybe tell her I love her."

Harry smiled softly, gently. "Malfoy, I honestly think that would be more appropriate coming from you than me."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But at this point I don't know if she's even in the country. I've no idea where she is. If she's not here, I don't know where else to look. Her parents are in Australia – I suppose she may have gone there, but I hardly doubt she'd be too pleased with me just Apparating in. But I know one thing – if I don't hear that she's safe in the next couple of days, I'm going to go and look for her." His declaration was accompanied by an icy glint in his eyes that quickly gave way to liquid emotion. Harry could see that Malfoy was fighting back tears, and that single realisation shocked him to his core.

"If I hear from her, I'll let you know," he promised, feeling horribly disloyal to his best friend. But somehow he felt responsible, knowing that Hermione was upstairs with Ginny and he had lied about it. He felt torn, knowing that he was firmly stuck in the middle here.

Draco got to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Potter." He shuffled his feet anxiously before heading over to the fireplace and grasping a handful of the sparkling powder. "Tell her – tell her the Floo is always open. I've taken a leave of absence from the Ministry for a little while – just in case she wants to talk. I can't – I don't know what else to do."

Harry nodded silently, lost for an appropriate reply. He feared that right now, Hermione wasn't open to anything he could pass on from her estranged husband. Draco responded with a curt nod before throwing the powder into the fireplace and disappearing in a rush of green flame. Harry sighed deeply, pushing his glasses up his nose, before walking to the foot of the stairs. "He's gone," he called up.

Moments later, Ginny and Hermione descended the staircase. Ginny's face was taut with tension, and Hermione's bottom lip was swollen as if she had been worrying it with her teeth. "What did he have to say for himself?" demanded Hermione, putting a hand on one hip. "I suppose he ranted and raved?"

Harry shook his head. "Actually, no. He asked me if I had seen you recently and I said no. Then he mentioned that you weren't at the Manor and that none of your stuff was there, either. Where is it?"

"I put it into storage," was the instant, cold reply. "I don't need half of that stuff anyway. Eventually I'll sell it. Or burn it. Whichever."

"But Hermione, your books –"

"Fuck the books," she bit. "Those books have been my only companions for months. It's safe to say I won't need to re-read them any time soon. The words are probably burned into my brain. I could recite them in my sleep."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Mione, this isn't you," she said, her tone full of concern. "You've closed yourself off, I've never known you so cold."

Hermione just shrugged. "I've been living in the Manor. Perhaps the Malfoy warmth has rubbed off on me." She burst into vitriolic laughter. "That's a joke in itself. The Malfoys only warm up when they're dead."

"You were crying when you arrived, Mione," pointed out Harry. "Don't do this. Don't shut us out, and everything else. We can't fix it if you do that."

"Exactly," she declared. "Now if it's okay, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me use your shower."

"Of course," replied Ginny. "There are clean towels in the linen cupboard." Hermione nodded her gratitude and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. She looked at her husband. "What did Malfoy say?" she mouthed.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "He seemed angry at first, then he was just sad. He doesn't understand – but he did confirm that they haven't spoken for weeks. He told me to tell Hermione he loves her."

Ginny looked down the hall towards the bathroom. "Oh Merlin, what are we going to do?"

Harry looked subdued. "I don't know, Gin. But we have to do something. Mione has closed herself off, and Malfoy is sadder than I've ever seen him. Somehow, we have to get them back together."

His redheaded wife nodded emphatically. "I know, Harry. I know."

 **A/N: Thank you for all the interest in this story! I have several chapters pre-written and will be updating regularly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Hermione closed the door of the Potters' guest room and sank down on the bed, clutching the large towel she had collected from the linen cupboard. Shimmying out of her clothes, she wrapped the towel around her lithe body and opened the door again, crossing the hall into the large bathroom. It wasn't quite up to the standard of the Prefects Bathroom at Hogwarts, but it was luxurious enough. A large glass partition stood at one end of the room, behind which was the large shower head.

She opened the large bathroom cabinet and found Ginny's shampoo and shower gel. In the hurry to get here, she had forgotten to pack a toiletry bag. Her own toiletries were probably now in the storage facility among the other things in her two huge trunks. Sighing deeply, Hermione unwound the towel and hung it on the heated rail before stepping into the path of the shower head, turning on the water as she did. Immediately a powerful burst of water was released, drenching her hair and cascading down her face.

She sighed again, half in pleasure at the heat of the water and half in sorrow. It had been an absolute wretch of a day and she felt as though she had been put through a wringer. Despite how it looked to her friends, Hermione had been considering leaving her husband for a few days. She had gotten so tired of the long silences; the lack of communication along was distressing enough. But she couldn't even remember the last time he had touched her or even held her hand. Reaching for the shampoo, she absent-mindedly lathered her hair, her mind travelling back to the first time they had confessed their feelings for one another.

 _He had rushed after her once she stormed out of their shared common room, saying nothing but following behind her at a safe distance. Eventually, after about five minutes, she lost her cool, spinning around so abruptly that he almost ran into her. "What is your problem, Malfoy?" she demanded, her eyes glinting with fiery annoyance. "You rile me up to the point of almost hexing you, and then when I finally decide I've had enough of your smirking face and leave, you follow me?! What in the name of Merlin do you think you're up to?"_

" _You didn't let me finish talking," he answered coolly. "As usual, you made your typical Gryffindor assumptions that a Slytherin's word was never to be taken seriously or trusted, and then you threw every attempt I made to explain back in my face." He regarded her with annoyance that was exactly opposite to her own. Where she was hot and fiery, he was cold and cutting. "Are you always this rude and unwilling to listen to people?"_

 _Hermione huffed. "If you knew me at all, Malfoy, you'd know I'm neither of those things!"_

" _Yes you are," he argued, "but only when it comes to Slytherins. You have time and patience for everybody else, but not a Slytherin. Never a Slytherin. You look at us like we're something dirty on the bottom of your shoe!"_

" _Well now you know how it feels, Malfoy!" she screamed back at him. "You want to know why the other Houses look at Slytherin with contempt? Take a look at your behaviour for the past six years! You think that because some of you changed sides and joined the Order at the last minute that it excuses the years of bullying you subjected us to?" Her eyes were ablaze, and Draco found himself taking an involuntary step back. "What you get from me is nothing like the abuse you'd get from someone else, like Seamus!"_

" _I don't care about the others!" Draco suddenly yelled. "Are you blind, Granger? I've been hated by most other people in this school since Voldemort fell. I couldn't care less about them! The only person whose opinion could affect me is yours."_

 _She gaped at him. "What? Why? Do you honestly think that my opinion of you would stop me doing my duty as Head Girl? I'd never give up my badge, Malfoy, no matter what you do or say to me."_

 _He stepped closer to her, taking hold of her arm. "Head duties?" The scorn poured from his tone. "You think this is about Head duties?"_

" _Let go of me!" she protested, trying to wrench her arm free from his hold, but he tightened his grip. "Malfoy, what on earth has possessed you? I don't understand – if not for Head duties then why would my opinion make the slightest difference to your life?"_

 _He pulled her closer still, his eyes trained fiercely on hers. "You saved me," he enunciated, his voice husky. "You killed a Death Eater who had trained the Killing Curse on me, and you didn't even have to think about it. That was the first Death Eater you killed, Granger, and you know it. Before that, you'd only stunned them. What made you kill him?"_

" _He would have killed you," she responded. "Despite the fact you'd made most of my school life a living hell, I never wanted you dead. It was either kill him or risk both of us being killed once the Stupefy wore off." He didn't reply, his eyes searching hers in the quiet corridor. She felt herself getting increasingly nervous under the weight of his gaze, noticing for the first time that his grey eyes had flecks of blue in them. Biting her lip, she opened her mouth to break the silence. "Malfoy, I –"_

" _Don't," he whispered. "Just – just let me…" Before she could react, he had lowered his head to hers and closed the distance between them, his lips brushing across hers in a feather-light caress. She immediately tensed in surprise, but undeterred, his mouth caressed hers again; this time more firmly. Before Hermione knew what she was doing her arms had encircled his waist and she was kissing him back._

 _Moments later he broke the kiss, taking her hand and leading her quickly into a nearby classroom which was thankfully unoccupied. She sank into him again, this time pulling on his tie to draw him closer as his mouth found hers. All rational thought left her as their kiss deepened, his tongue exploring and hers meeting his halfway. They separated, both breathing hard. His eyes met hers again and she found herself unable to look away._

" _I guess now is as good a time as any to come clean," he began. She felt her heart skip a beat as he continued. "I started thinking about you differently when we joined the Order – me and Blaise. You looked so tired all the time, so stressed, and yet you still ran around after everyone else; mothering them, brewing healing potions, giving pep talks. You seemed so fragile and yet so strong all at once. And then we fought together and I couldn't believe how accomplished you were. You fought like you were born duelling. I realised then that the bullshit I had been raised to believe was just that – a steaming heap of dragon dung. You are obviously a talented and gifted witch, and your blood and birth has no bearing on that whatsoever." He cleared his throat, his eyes full of apprehension. "I was wrong, Granger. I admitted it then, and I still admit it now. I only antagonise you because you bite every time, and it was a way of getting your attention."_

" _But that doesn't explain why you kissed me," Hermione said confusedly._

 _He chuckled. "I've been living in Head dorms with you now for five months, Granger. I've gotten to know you a lot better than I did then. And – I've realised that the fascination I felt then has grown into something much more tangible." He smiled at her confused expression. "I'm falling in love with you, Granger," he stated calmly. "I didn't want to, and I certainly didn't expect to, but there it is."_

 _Hermione stared at him. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. She had really, truly thought she was alone in her furtive attraction to him; the clandestine thoughts she had been having for the last few months. The secret longing she had carried around for him. "This had better not be some kind of sick joke, Malfoy," she answered, trying not to sound too harsh._

 _He stepped close to her again, brushing an errant curl off her forehead with his long fingers. "It's no joke, Granger. I'm sure you know I wouldn't touch you like this, kiss you like I just did, if I were joking. You fascinate and captivate me." His lips ghosted over hers. "By the way, it's Draco," he whispered, just before he kissed her properly again._

 _She broke the kiss to smile at him. "It's a good thing I'm falling for you too, otherwise I'd have been forced to slap you again. Oh, and by the way, it's Hermione."_

Hermione shook her head under the water, rinsing the last suds out of her curls. Her throat burned, and she knew her tears were combining with the shower water that ran down her face. She loved Draco so much. He had gone from being an annoying bully to a quiet yet self-assured duellist and ally, and eventually the man she had given her heart to. He had matched her intellectually; and she remembered the late nights they had spent sitting together with a bottle of wine and a pizza, arguing the state of the world. The sudden loss of communication hit her doubly hard as a result. The hard façade she had adopted on her arrival was a skill she had picked up from watching him at work. They had jokingly referred to it as his 'business face'. Thankfully, Harry and Ginny weren't familiar with it, else they'd have seen right through it.

A knock came at the bathroom door, and Hermione instinctively wiped her tears away impatiently with the back of her hand. "Mione, are you all right in there?" came Ginny's concerned voice. More tears threatened to spill as she registered just how worried her best friend was for her.

"I'm okay, I'll be right out!" she managed to call out before looking down at her shaking hands. She knew the façade was cracking; before long she'd be forced to deal with her actions and meet with Draco. But right now, she felt too hurt and sad. Her marriage was slipping away from her and she had no idea why Draco had become so distant. In the back of her mind, she still wondered whether the pretty secretary had something to do with it.

"Take your time," answered Ginny kindly. "But just so you know, Harry went out and got your favourite ice cream, and I've got some roast keeping warm in the oven for you. You must be hungry by now. It's ready whenever you are." A few seconds passed. "Oh, and there's plenty of firewhiskey too. Or elf wine," added Ginny before her retreating footsteps made their way to Hermione's ears.

Hermione let out a laugh at her friend's courtesy, but it came out sounding halfway between a giggle and a choked sob. She knew she needed to deal with things, but right now a food coma and a hefty dose of alcohol sounded like just the ticket. Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dried off and crossed the hallway back to the guest bedroom. Slipping on her pyjamas, she twisted her hair into a loose knot at the back of her head and looked into the mirror. "Come on, Hermione. You can do this," she told herself, before leaving the room and heading towards the stairs to join her friends.

 **A/N: Thank you for your reviews so far! What do you think about Hermione's reasoning? She's a bit of a firecracker, our Hermione... I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next chapter, we get an insight into Draco's state of mind and welcome a new character...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 4, hopefully it was worth the wait. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!**

 **KimbleDramione x**

The next day, Blaise Zabini swung open the large door of his manor, staring in surprise at the sight that greeted him. His former best friend was slumped against the doorframe, swinging a bottle of Ogden's and looking like death warmed up. "Salazar's rod, Draco – what in Merlin's name happened to you?"

"She's gone," was the mumbled reply. "Gone. Up and fucking left when I was at work."

Blaise opened the door wider. "You'd better come in, mate," was his shell-shocked reply. "I'll ring for some snacks."

Draco staggered inside, looking around blearily. "Where's your missus?"

"She's in France for the week with her sister," he replied. Blaise was married to Astoria Greengrass. Draco had been surprised at the match, especially since he had been interested in her briefly during their Hogwarts days. "Don't worry, mate. It's just me and you."

Draco raised his bottle to his mouth and took a long drink, screwing up his eyes as the liquid blazed a fiery path down his throat. "I should have seen it coming, Blaise. I knew she was too fucking good for me…"

Blaise snatched the bottle away from him, earning a very dark look from Draco. "Oh for Merlin's sake. Shut up, Draco. Granger fell in love with you. Yes, she was Gryffindor's Princess and one of the Golden Trio, but you two are suited! She's not a Pureblooded trophy wife, she'd never be happy with the life of a socialite. She challenges you."

"I stopped challenging her," Draco whispered in response. "I stopped sharing things with her. I can't remember the last time we had a decent conversation."

Blaise led his drunken companion to the sitting room and gestured towards the large couch. "You need to be telling her this, mate, not me."

Draco sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. "I know that, Blaise, but I know her well enough to know she won't speak to me. Not for a day or two. She wasn't at Potter's yesterday, I went there first. I don't know where she went. She could be in Australia with her parents for all I know."

Blaise sat down on the couch opposite him as he sank into the seat Blaise had offered. "Australia? Wow. I don't think she'd have done that, would she? Knowing Granger, she wouldn't just take off to Oz without letting her friends know. She's considerate to a fault." He looked down at the bottle in his hand and summoned some glasses from across the room, pouring three fingers for each of them and handing his friend one of the crystal tumblers. "You can't just swig Ogden's like dragon piss," he chastised. "Savour it, the way you're supposed to."

"I'm too depressed to savour anything right now, Blaise, for fuck's sake," grumbled Draco in response. "I need ideas, mate. How do I get her back?"

"You're asking me?" was Blaise's incredulous reply. "Draco, I've had exactly one long term relationship and I married her. It's not exactly the love story of the year. She liked me, I liked her, our parents approved of the match, so we got married. I'm hardly qualified to advise you in matters of the heart. Astoria often jokes I don't have one."

"You're suggesting that I treat this like an arranged marriage?" asked Draco, horrified. "I can't do that. She'd never go for it. Plus, I actually love her."

"You're suggesting I don't love Astoria?" mocked Blaise. "I do. I just… I guess the love developed after the wedding, as weird as that sounds."

"This is hopeless," complained Draco. "I don't know how to fix this, Blaise. I never saw it coming. It wasn't even like we had a massive fight. We just stopped communicating. That's so much harder to deal with."

"Sounds like you're gonna have to make her fall in love with you all over again," suggested Blaise. "It's not going to be easy, but look at it this way – you made her fall in love with you once. It shouldn't be so hard for you to do it again."

"I guess I could try it," said Draco, his tone doubtful. "But what if it doesn't work? What if she thinks I'm trying to butter her up?"

"You've got to be clever about it, mate," chuckled Blaise. "Get her in on the idea. Tell her that you want a specific period of time to try and work on your marriage. Negotiate. Then, at the end of that time period, if you can't make it work and she's still unhappy then tell her you'll divorce."

Draco shook his head stubbornly. "No way, Malfoys don't divorce."

"Then you'd best make sure that you do a good job in working on your marriage, hadn't you?" was Blaise's characteristically good-natured reply. "Look, Draco. You love her, right? That hasn't changed?"

"Of course it hasn't!" was the frustrated reply. "I wouldn't have married her if I didn't love her. My parents knew I'd never submit to an arranged marriage. And before you ask, no, I haven't cheated on her. The thought of being with another woman has never even crossed my mind." He laughed bitterly. "Although I'm not sure the same is true for her."

"There's no way she's cheated on you, mate," answered Blaise. "I work in the same place, remember? She never even takes lunch breaks, never mind goes out to do the nasty with some other wizard."

Draco sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "I forgot you worked at Flourish & Blotts too!" he cried. "You can help me!"

Blaise shifted away from his suddenly animated friend, holding his hands up warily. "Whoa, slow down. How did I get involved in this?"

"It was your idea to make a deal with her," groused Draco. "You made yourself involved. I'm not asking for much, Zabini – just a little help. For example, I know damn well she's at the Potter place. She might not have been last night when I went there, but I'd bet the Ministry on the fact that she's there now. Could you just Floo them and ask if she's there?"

Blaise took a long drink of his whiskey. "Merlin, Morgana and Godric, you really want me to do this, don't you?" He smiled contentedly as the effects of the alcohol kicked in. "I'm not a Marriage Counsel-Wizard, just so you know."

"I'm not asking you to be a bloody miracle worker, just a friend," retorted Draco. "Yes, I know I've been a shitty friend to you recently –"

"That's an understatement."

Draco had the good sense to look remorseful. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I was so messed up after the war. The only person that could reach me was Hermione. I stopped speaking to pretty much everybody."

"I get it," reassured Blaise. "I know as a Slytherin I'm supposed to never let you forget it, and constantly remind you of how shitty a friend you are, and basically make you think I'm never going to forgive you – but what's the point? I was an arrogant prick through most of our school years, and it was a bitter pill to swallow joining the Order. Still, better that than joining the Death Eaters. When you said you wanted to avoid that happening, I knew you'd need someone to join up with you. So I swallowed my pride and I joined."

"I know, and I really appreciate it," said Draco, nodding. "I really do. I know I never said it, but I do. At risk of sounding really fucking mushy and Hufflepuff, I'm glad you were there with me."

"All right, all right… let's stop with that dragon dung before we sound like a pair of Hufflepuffs," laughed Blaise. "It's all forgiven and shit."

"So you'll help me contact Hermione?"

"I guess – but you owe me, mate. Big time." Blaise stood up and placed his glass down on the nearby end table. "You reckon she's at the Potter place?" Draco nodded and Blaise made his way over to the Floo. He got down on his knees and threw a handful of powder in, before putting his head in and calling out "Grimmauld Place!"

"Blaise Zabini, yours is the last head I would ever have imagined to see in my fireplace," came the voice of Ginny Potter. "What do you need?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you at this late hour, Mrs Potter, but I need to get hold of Hermione. It's work-related. Is she at your place, by any chance?" Blaise's tone was calm and polite, and Draco shook his head in bewildered surprise.

"One second," was Ginny's reply, and moments later footsteps could be heard.

"Blaise?" came Hermione's voice. Draco felt his heart jump in his chest at the timbre of her words. "Why on earth would you be Flooing to speak to me?"

"Hermione, I'm hurt," responded Blaise. "I know you may not be on friendly terms with my wife, but surely as colleagues that doesn't affect our relationship?"

"I suppose not," she responded, her tone light-hearted. Suddenly, her voice changed, her tone hardening. "Tell me that this is actually to do with the bookstore, and not because my estranged husband put you up to this?"

"Well, now you mention it, Hermione, your husband is here. However, he didn't put me up to this at all… he's not even in the room right now. He has no idea I'm speaking to you," was Blaise's smooth (and untruthful) response. He gestured with his hand for Draco to keep quiet.

A deep sigh came from Hermione. "I'm sorry if he's bothering you, Blaise. If he doesn't know about this call, then what did you want to speak to me?"

"Give him a chance," beseeched Blaise. "At least meet with him. He's really broken up about all this, Hermione. He's been horribly mushy, and you know Slytherins don't know how to deal with that. It's much more a Gryffindor trait, as you know. All I ask is that you Floo over and just talk to him briefly. That's all. The boy is going out of his mind… it's pathetic, really."

"Is he really that upset?" asked Hermione, doubt resonating in her voice.

"Hermione, I am on my knees in front of my Floo at this ridiculous hour of the day. I have had to pull my best firewhiskey out to placate the poor man, and I spoke to Ginny, of all people, to get to talk to you. Now while I know I am an undeniably charming and pleasant man, I would not do this for the fun of it." He raised an eyebrow. "There have almost been tears, Hermione. **Tears.** "

"All right, all right," she acquiesced. "But give me a few minutes, I need to do something first. I'll be with you in five minutes, okay? Are you at Zabini Manor?" Blaise acknowledged that yes, he was, and then ended the Floo call.

"Thank you so much, mate," was Draco's only utterance.

"Yeah, yeah. Now go make yourself look like you've been crying or something," was Blaise's retort. "Or at least go rough yourself up a little. Mind you, you look pretty bad already, but a little more couldn't hurt. Go and splash cold water on your cheeks and in your eyes. It works for Astoria all the time."

"Works for Astoria? And what was that insinuation about the Potterette?" questioned Draco, his interest piqued.

Blaise waved him away. "I'll tell you later. You need to get out of here before your wife arrives… now scoot. Skedaddle."

With that, Draco quickly left the room and made his way to a nearby bathroom. It was no big deal, he already needed to pee. Too much firewhiskey had taken its toll. He looked into the large gilded mirror and sighed. "Come on, you're a Malfoy," he scolded himself. "You can do this."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi everyone, I'm back – sorry for the late update! A massive thank you also to everyone who has reviewed, followed or liked this story – it means a great deal. Here is chapter 5 and I am working on chapter 6 as we speak. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to know your thoughts! x**

 **5**

True to her word, five minutes later the Floo roared to life and Hermione Granger-Malfoy stepped through; her eyes sore-looking but otherwise perfectly presentable. She looked around in confusion, her eyes settling on the figure of Blaise sitting on a nearby couch. "Blaise," she greeted softly. "I thought you said Draco was here?"

"He is," was the reply. "I think he's still in the bathroom, he's been in there a while so I hope he should come out soon. He fled in there earlier, I think he wanted a bit of privacy so that's when I took the opportunity to Floo you." He rose from his seat, walking over to the drinks cabinet. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Usually no, but seeing as I'm going to have to deal with Draco I think I'll need it," was Hermione's uncharacteristically terse response. "What do you have?"

Blaise opened the cabinet. "I have mead, spiced mead, gin, redcurrant rum, butterbeer, firewhiskey, elf wine…"

Hermione laughed. "You could open a bar there, Blaise. I'll have some mead, please."

Blaise had just finished pouring the drink and handing her the glass when the large wooden door swung open and Draco came in. "Sorry I was gone so long, mate, I just…" His eyes fell upon Hermione and he trailed off. "Hermione," he whispered.

"Draco," she answered, her voice softer than she had intended. "You look awful."

"I've been lost without you," he admitted freely. "I just – Merlin, you look so beautiful."

"Don't," she insisted. "You can't say things like that to me now, Draco… not when I've made up my mind. You didn't speak to me for weeks! You treated me like I was one of the ornaments lying around the Manor!" Her voice grew in pitch and volume as she continued. "You were happy to just pretend I wasn't there, and now when I'm actually not there you decide to miss me?"

Draco's grey eyes flashed with anger. "I never pretended you weren't there!" he argued, stepping towards her. Hermione took a step back, and Blaise looked from one to the other, silently warning them. Draco took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I neglected you. I can't take that back, Hermione, as much as I would love to. I just – please don't let it end this way. My feelings for you have never changed."

Hermione shook her head, her eyes downcast. "I don't believe you, Draco."

"May I offer a suggestion?" came Blaise's voice, causing both Hermione and Draco's heads to pop up in surprise. "It's obvious that you two have some issues you need to talk over. Why not make an agreement?"

"What sort of agreement?" ventured Hermione.

Draco ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "How about this… we make a promise to try and work on our marriage for a particular time period. Say, three months. At the end of that time period, if you still don't want to be married to me anymore then I'll agree to separate."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you to be so reasonable," she admitted, her voice a little bitter. "You mean it? You'd really agree to a separation in three months' time if nothing changes?"

Draco swallowed hard. "Yes," he confirmed. "But only on the condition that we use the three months to really work on our marriage. I'll make an effort, you make an effort, and if we don't feel the same about each other as we did, then we'll separate."

Hermione sat down, sipping her mead. Her thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. "I need to think about this," she mused.

Blaise coughed to hide Draco's growl of annoyance. "Take all the time you need," he offered. "Draco, can I get you another firewhiskey while the lady ponders?"

"Hermione, please," he begged, completely ignoring his friend. "I just… give me a chance to prove myself to you. To prove that I can be a better husband. To make you see that I still love you just as much as I always have."

She took another sip of her mead, wincing a little at the intense sweetness of the drink. "Before we can agree, I need to ask you a few questions," she countered. "By the same token, you can ask me some, and I will answer honestly if you will too."

Draco sat down opposite her, meeting her eyes. "Ask me whatever you want," he agreed. "I'll give you the truth."

Hermione leaned forward. "Have you really been working late, or have you been fucking your secretary?" Blaise stifled a laugh, and Draco flinched at the harshness of her question.

"Selene Selwyn?" he asked incredulously. "You think I've been _cheating_ on you, with _her_?"

"She's very pretty," defended Hermione, "and she's Sacred Twenty-Eight. I would have thought she'd have been your type."

"She's a bloody psychopath!" cried Draco. "I only hired her because she came very highly recommended by Kingsley. Otherwise I'd never have even considered her. She's a decent secretary, but she's terrifying. She carries a potion vial around with her that contains the mixed blood of her parents."

"Ew, really?" interjected Blaise. "That is kind of sick."

"So you've never slept with her? Or anyone else?" reiterated Hermione. He shook his head firmly. "All right," she accepted. "I only have one other question, and it's one I know you might not want to answer."

"Just ask it," said Draco tiredly. He was shell-shocked at the realisation that his wife had assumed he was having an affair. He could see now where she might have gotten that idea, due to his emotional and physical distance.

"Why did you marry me?" she asked, her voice shaking. "I want you to explain to me exactly why you married me two years ago."

He looked into her eyes again, the pain in them radiating out. He knew his own eyes were mirroring the same emotions. "I married you because I love you," he stated simply. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I still do. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. I fell completely in love with you, Hermione, and that's the only reason I married you. It had absolutely nothing to do with power, or politics, or rebellion, or any of that other fucking crap. I married you because you are the woman I love."

Hermione's eyes were shining with tears as she nodded, accepting his answer. "Now ask me the questions you wanted to ask," she half-choked, taking a long drink of her mead to hide the thickness of her voice.

"Why were you working so many late nights at Flourish & Blotts?" Draco asked, his hands shaking.

Hermione wiped her eyes before answering. "It felt warmer and more welcoming than home." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. "I don't know how else to explain it, Draco. It just – the lack of conversation was stifling, and the Manor is so big… sometimes I felt like I was wandering alone around an abandoned museum. It felt so cold. There was no life, no warmth… and you spent so much of your time locked away in your study, going over paperwork, that I just started dreading coming home."

"I thought you liked the Manor," he queried. "You always said you wanted to make a fresh start there."

"I did!" she cried, frustrated. "I did like it, Draco, but that was when we actually spent time together! When we'd sit in front of the fire, having long intellectual debates about everything. Or having snowball fights in the gardens. I grew to dislike it when you disappeared into the shadows of your study and I was left alone. I love the Malfoy library, but even I can only read so many books before I go insane."

"Are you sure about that?" teased Blaise, before holding up his hands in supplication after receiving death glares from the couple. "Sorry, sorry…"

"My only other question was – why did you leave? But I think you've already answered that, unless there are any other reasons? Is there someone else?" Draco's voice shook audibly as he spoke.

Hermione shook her head resolutely. "No, there is no one else," she insisted. "I just felt like I was living like a widow – I want more than that, Draco. I deserve more than that."

Draco nodded. "So… will you agree to try and work on this? Three months?"

She cleared her throat. "I have a couple of conditions," she negotiated. "If you'll agree to them, then yes, I'll agree."

Blaise took out a sheet of parchment and his best quill, pasting his best 'legal expert' look on his face. "What are your conditions, Mrs Granger-Malfoy?" he requested, his tone formal.

Hermione's gaze was firmly set on Draco's face. "Firstly, I want you to fire your current secretary and hire Millicent Bulstrode in her place," she requested. "I know you said you haven't done anything with her, but I don't trust her and she's far too pretty. She's half-Veela."

"Do I have to hire Millie?" Draco complained. "I have no issues firing Selene, but why Millie?"

Hermione bit her lip. "The obvious reason is that she's not exactly going to tempt you or distract you with her physical appearance, but the other reason is that she came into Flourish & Blotts the other day looking for a job. Apparently the family fell on hard times during the war and she's being made to pick up the slack."

"But Millicent _hated_ you throughout Hogwarts," said Blaise thoughtlessly. "Why would you do something nice for her?"

Hermione smiled suddenly. "Who said I'm doing something nice? Yes, she gets a job working for the Minister of Magic, but she'd probably see me quite often and she'd know that she only had the job because I put in a good word for her. I can't think of a better way to make someone uncomfortable, can you?"

Blaise's jaw dropped, and Draco found himself smiling. "Bloody fucking Salazar's scrotum, you should have been in Slytherin!" Remembering himself, he put his lawyer face back on and regarded her, his quill poised. "Any other conditions?"

"I'd like to lengthen the time period to four months," she added. "I'm not sure three will be enough, and if it's going to be an all-or-nothing kind of deal then I think it's only fair that it be four months. Or even more."

"How about six months?" suggested Draco. "Half a year should be enough time for us to know, I hope."

"All right. Millicent Bulstrode becomes your secretary, and we extend the trial period to six months. If you accept those conditions, then I agree to the terms."

"I accept," declared Draco, holding out his hand. Hermione looked at it warily, and then took it. Blaise tapped their joined hands with his wand and both felt a sudden surge of magic. Hermione yanked her hand away immediately.

"Was – was that an Unbreakable Vow?" she demanded, flustered.

Blaise shook his head. "No, no. It's simply a sealing bond. You've made your agreement and spoken it aloud, the charm simply seals it. Nobody dies."

"So what was the parchment and quill for?" asked Draco, flipping it over and looking at it intently. It was blank.

Blaise smiled his megawatt smile and snatched it back. "Nothing, mate. Just for show," he grinned.

"So how should we do this?" That was Hermione, ever the voice of reason. "We just go back to the way things used to be?"

"I have an idea as regards that," interjected Blaise. "My family owns a villa in Italy. It's in Ravello, on the Amalfi Coast. It's unplottable, and invisible to Muggles, but it's quite luxurious. Nobody uses it this time of year. I'd like to offer it to you both for as long as you'd like to stay."

"Blaise, that's incredibly generous," praised Hermione, "but I don't know if disappearing off to Italy would be appropriate…"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," remarked Draco. "We never had a honeymoon, if you remember. I think going away together would be a fantastic way to work on our marriage, at least for a little while. Maybe just a month or two."

"I can't take two months off work, Draco," she protested. "It's impossible, I…"

"Last I checked, I'm your supervisor," interrupted Blaise. "With that in mind, I'm immediately authorising you to take two months of annual leave in order to work on your marriage. No arguments."

Hermione rounded on Draco. "And you, you can't take two months off! You're the Minister of Magic! You're needed at the Ministry."

"I will go into the office tomorrow, immediately rectify the issue with my secretary, and appoint Theo as Acting Minister while I take a leave of absence," he asserted. "I want to make this work, Hermione. Everything else can just go jump off a bridge."

Realising that she was fighting a losing battle, Hermione sighed and nodded her agreement. "I'll come back to the Manor with you, Draco," she added. "I'd like to apologise to Tisky for the way I treated her. Also… I guess the six months starts now, right?"

"What about the Potters?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'll just Floo back and explain what's going on," she said hurriedly. "Wait for me here. I'll be ten minutes, tops." She quickly walked to the fireplace and disappeared in a rush of green flame.

Draco turned to Blaise. "So, what was the deal with you and the Potterette?"

"I was hoping you'd forgotten," complained his friend. At Draco's raised eyebrow, he sighed deeply. "I saw her at a wizarding nightclub once, shortly after the war started and Potter was off trying to knock off the Dark Lord. We got pretty drunk and… well, we slept together. I was an arrogant prick though and crept out of her room before she woke up. Earlier this evening was the first time I've spoken to her since that night."

Draco whistled. "Rather you than me, mate. She got me with that hex once. Ouch."

Blaise groaned, and together they waited for Hermione to return.


End file.
